Assassin by circumstance
by sapiens machina
Summary: Transported between universes and trained to become an assassin, Alex sets out on the journey of a lifetime, with Shepard at his side. Slight AU, SI x FemShep. Will loosely follow cannon events, but expect major changes. Starts prior to ME1. Rated M for graphical violence, language and "intimate" behavior. *Wink*
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own the ME'verse, bioware does.

**Prologue**

Breathing. It's the most important action that all living beings perform and yet it's an unconscious thought. Ancient (human) martial artists, philosophers and athletes all preached the importance of one's breathing. It can calm you, enhance your senses and help you gain mastery over your body. It's what I'm doing right now; controlling my breathing whilst handling the rifle held in my arms. Looking through the scope, I spot my target. His name is Naem Volar, a monster of a Turian that has a habit for kidnapping human teenagers, forcing them into servitude and killing them via strangulation after they start boring him.

I saw pictures of his victims, lifeless eyes staring blankly at me through the photograph, blotchy purple marks on their necks, windpipe crushed. Seeing their parents is even worse. They're turned into sobbing, angry messes that have nowhere to direct their wrath, since there is little to no evidence that Naem even committed the murders. No DNA, skin, hair, surveillance or witness testimony to prove that he committed the crimes, except the purple mark on his victim's necks. It's tragic really, nobody should have to watch his or her kids die.

A few months after his killing spree started, he let something fall through the cracks. This time, the kidnapped girl was killed with two shots to the chest, which left gaping, bloody holes. Bruises on her knuckles confirmed that there was a struggle prior to death, and C-Sec managed to pull Turian plate scrapings off the dead girl's fists, confirming that Naem Volar was indeed the killer.

C-Sec wasn't fast enough though. Naem knew that his time was up on the citadel, and fled the station on his personal craft straight after he murdered the poor girl. Since nobody knew it was him who committed the murders at the time, customs just let him waltz into space without any fuss. After it was discovered that the very organization that was supposed to stop Naem actually let him through Citadel security, there was a scandal of colossal proportions, which ended in several officers that were in charge of Naem's case getting replaced.

After hearing of this, the council hired me to purse and quietly "eliminate" the threat. I knew that it wasn't incarceration that they planned for him, but a quiet death that nobody in the galaxy would complain about. So, the chase led me here to Rekombae, a seldom-visited garden planet after determining his exit vector from the citadel. Since it was so sparsely populated, it wasn't all that hard to locate his whereabouts on the planet. Turns out the bastard purchased a summer home for himself under an alias, which was easily traced via funds transferred from his real identity. Turns out, the killer who had eluded C-Sec for months was only an amateur.

His residence was not that big, comprising of one main building and about a quarter of an acre of open field. Security was a joke, consisting of a few ill-placed cameras and two guards wandering about aimlessly. Considering they were just hired to do their jobs, I opted to knock them out for the duration of the op instead of killing them outright. The guards were taken care of easily with concussion rounds from a silenced sniper rifle that would put them in dream-land for around 2 hours, and the measly electronic security disabled with a broad spectrum, blanket EMP. This made sneaking onto the grounds a cakewalk. I set up about 500 meters away from his balcony, giving me clear line of sight and allowing me enough space to watch for movement across the entire main building. Even though there was little to no light (since I chose to conduct the op at night), I chose to activate the cloak on my armor, go prone and wait for the target to emerge.

I finally spot him carrying a bottle of some Turian alcoholic beverage and a glass out onto the balcony and reach for my rifle, extending the deadly weapon to it's full length. I don't bother with a silencer or lowering projectile velocity, since there is nobody around to hear the shot, which brings me back to the beginning. In and out I breathe, slowly, deliberately saturating my blood with oxygen. My heart rate slows, body completely still for the shot that I'm about to take. Adjustments were made to compensate for wind, gravitational pull, geo-rotation and atmospheric composition. The rifle's computer reports green across the board, information that is sent to my helmet's HUD and I make final preparations to take the shot.

Naem sits down on a patio chair, pours himself a finger of that Turian liquor, takes a sip, and relaxes. It's the last thing he'll ever do. Slowly, I breathe out, waiting for the beats of my heart to slow down. Before he can move again, I move the rifle so that it sights directly on the center of his chest. Contrary to popular belief, center-mass shots are almost always deadly, and a much bigger target than the head. Millimeters away from the trigger, I will myself to squeeze the trigger, sending a projectile at a fraction of the speed of light towards my target. The recoil slams the rifle into my shoulder, but doesn't cause any pain since I'm wearing armor. He doesn't stand a chance. The round blows a hole the size of my fist in his chest cavity, the surrounding area burnt to a crisp. Unlike the movies, he does not stagger back, clutching his wound in agony before dropping like a stone. The sheer trauma caused by my modified rifle sent him into oblivion without pain or suffering. He deserved worse before he died, but it was more efficient this way.

Suddenly, I hear klaxons sounding, and metal rods rising from the ground, revealing floodlights that lit up the grounds like a Christmas tree. Since I just fired the shot, my cloak has long since fizzled out and won't be available for another precious minute. My armor-covered shape can easily be seen by anybody. A door opens in the main building, and Turians wielding small arms rush out, looking for the intruder. I guess I must've missed something with the initial inspection of the house, since ten mercenaries that were now pouring out of the house would've been detected by my numerous thermal scans.

They finally spot me and open fire, causing rounds to ping off of my shields and sending the alarms inside my helmet into overdrive. Sneaking a glance at my HUD, I see that my shields are barely holding at 15%. I wouldn't last much longer without cover. Since I placed myself in the middle of the grounds, there is not even a single rock to hide behind. I guess there's no helping it; I have to use biotics. Flaring blue, I create a barrier with a thought and a gesture, and the once-deadly bullets flying my way fall harmlessly to the ground, to heavy to continue their fatal flight towards me. I don't bother reaching for my assault rifle, choosing to fend off the attackers with my mind instead. Gesturing in the general direction of the mercenaries, blue spheres of kinetic energy collide with the Turians, breaking bones and sending three flying into the wall, rendering them incapacitated and probably dead. Steeling myself and the barrier around me, I lower my mass into the negatives and charge into the fray, sending two of the mercs that I collided with crashing into the wall of the house, their necks and limbs bent at abnormal angles.

The five Turians left did not even have time to react as a create a field of negative mass to surround them, levitating them several meters up into the air. Grunting with effort, I suddenly reverse the field's effects, sending the mercenaries' mess skyrocketing. The five Turians hurtle towards the floor, crushed by their own abnormally increased weight. With the target down and the threat to my personal safety eliminated, it was time to get away from the scene of the crime before the local authorities get here. Gunfire and screams of pain are anything but inconspicuous. Toggling my cloak again, I run at a brisk pace back into the darkness, leaving the massacre behind.

You know, I wasn't always the killer I am now. Believe it or not, I don't even originate from this Universe. My name is Alex, and this is my story.

**Please review! I've written several other fics under different names, but never found the motivation to continue since there wasn't that many people who read them. That being said, I hope you guys enjoy. Drop me a line if anybody wants to talk. I'm also looking for a beta by the way, so if anybody wants to take up the post, please let me know =)**

**P.S I realize that a lot of the SI's are named Alex and that might make it a little confusing and perhaps laughable, but it really is my real name.**

**P.P.S If anybody thinks this story is good enough to warrant a cover, please let me know!**


	2. Beginnings

**Disclaimer: **Unfortunately, I do not own the ME 'verse, Bioware does.

**A/N: **Special shout out to Tonic 9901 for providing a lengthy & constructive review, as well as all the others that have started following my story. I hope I don't disappoint you guys =) Since the prologue was so short, this update comes ahead of schedule. Look forward to releases every friday, Hong Kong Time (GMT+08:00).

**Chapter 2 - Beginnings**

After getting away from the scene of the crime, I opened my omni-tool interface and double-checked my ballistic records to confirm that the target was indeed dead. Once I saw the tissue damage assessment, there was little doubt that Naem would still be alive. I also began to cross reference the pictures that my helm-mounted camera took of Naem prior to the shooting against all accessible image data-bases to confirm his identity, taking all of a few seconds to finish. It came back with a 98% positive ID on the subject, so there is little doubt that the Turian I killed was indeed the psychopathic murderer.

I compile all of the data; Naem's "before & after" photos, tissue damage assessment and the positive identification matches into a single, compressed file and upload it onto a secure server on the extra-net that belonged to my employer. Moments later, a chime sounds, notifying me that I'm now 125,000 credits richer. Closing the holographic interface, I march on through the streets of Rekombae, still cloaked, towards my ship. After a brisk, fifteen minute walk towards Rekombae port, I reach the docking stations. Looking around, I see that there was nobody in that particular section of the spaceport, so I reach down and toggle my cloak off. If there was anybody watching, I bet that a fully armed and armored man appearing out of thin air would've given them quite a scare.

In all honesty, my ship is quite impressive, albeit stolen from one of my enemies, who shall remain nameless for now. A smaller, less expensive replica of the "Normandy" lies before me in all its glory. 50 meters from bow to stern; it came with all the perks - scaled down tantalus drive, inconspicuous black paint (which also conveniently made it hard to see) and most importantly, the stealth system. After "recovering" it, I named it "Bloodstone", which is now inscribed in bold red lettering on the port and starboard sides of the ship.

Stepping onto the ramp connecting the dock and "Bloodstone's" airlock, the doors open automatically for me, letting me waltz onto the bridge, where I remove my helmet, holding onto it with one hand. I make my way to the elevators, intent on taking a rest at the Captain's cabin. However, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a female Turian walking towards me, fully clad in armor but without the helmet. She has pale, silvery plates, large black eyes and purple face markings.

"Back already?" She calls, waving me over for a conversation.

Sighing, I walk over to her, exhausted from the job and using my biotic abilities. "Liri, I was gone for almost six hours. That's quite a long time, especially since I spent most of it waiting in the dark for the target to come out of his house"

"You're usually gone for a lot longer" she replies, "Casing the joint and figuring out the best way of approaching things takes some time."

"Usually that would be the case, but this time the target made taking him out quite easy. The bastard all but told me where he was hiding."

Her mandibles twitched a little in surprise. "Oh? People usually give you more hardened targets, considering your reputation."

"They do indeed, but an easy job every now and then wouldn't be too terrible, considering we got paid 125,000." I give her a smile, and she can obviously tell that I'm very, very pleased with the payout.

Mandibles widening in a true Turian grin, she throws her talons up into the air. "This calls for a drink! We haven't made that much money in a long time. Somebody must've really wanted him dead."

I chuckle a little. "They were pretty desperate." Walking over to the elevators that would take me up to my cabin, I turn and look back Liri. "Mind if we grab that drink another time? I'm pretty beat from the case."

"Alright you killjoy, another time." She replies, obviously disappointed with my reply. "I'll hold you to that, but you better take me along on the job next time." Giving me a wink, she walks off, leaving me in my own company.

After entering the elevator, I punch the button for the level reserved for myself, and after a second or two, I am deposited in my cabin. It's a comfortable, simple room, complete with it's own little digital fireplace and a set of matching high-backed leather chairs. There's Queen sized bed in the corner, computer terminal and desk opposite the bed and a wooly, white rug in the middle of the room. It goes without saying that there's also an en-suite bathroom. The previous owner must've really wanted this to be a combat vessel that contained all the creature comforts. I picked a good ship to "appropriate".

I disable the hard-suit's clamps connecting the various pieces of my armor together, placing it onto a dummy in another corner of the room for storage. Clad in only black, skin-tight undergarments, I walked over to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. It's different from the face that I used to see in reflections. My likeness seems older, worn and wizened from my experiences in the past five years. I run my hands through jet-black hair, styled into a short, messy do, hazel eyes staring back at me through the reflection. There's also a small scar that I didn't have before on the right side of my jaw. A reminder that death is always close. Taking the rest of my clothes off, I step into the shower, and let the hot water crash around me. It's a pity that it can't cleanse my soul of what I've done, only dirt and grime collected after a day's work. Looking back, my life really took a drastic turn, probably for the better, but it's certainly not what I imagined for myself five years ago.

**January 14th, 2014**

I look at the barbell, loaded with a couple plates on each side, placed on a squat rack. 275 Pounds. A potential personal best. I'm honestly a little scared to try and squat this, especially since I only weigh 160 pounds. However, that's still quite heavy for a 5'10 Chinese guy hailing from Hong Kong. Steeling myself, I breathe slowly, focusing on the slow, rhythmic pace at which air goes in and out of my lungs. Focus is key, especially when I could potentially be crushed under something that's 115 pounds heavier than me. With a final breath, I place myself underneath the bar; lifting it out of the squat rack and taking a few steps back to give myself space to move. The pressure causes quite a bit of pain, but I grit my teeth and ignore it, for now. Setting my feet slightly wider than shoulder width, I begin to slowly squat down and reach a position where my hips are below my knees. Once there, it takes every fiber of my being and all of my determination to get back up. After around three seconds of torture and constant grunting, I'm standing again. Red faced and smiling, I start to take one step towards the squat rack to set the bar down again, but after I place my foot down on the ground, my vision warps and all I see is the darkness before passing out.

Pain wakes me up. Pain like I have never experienced before and I scream for all I'm worth. My nerves are seemingly set on fire, my skin torn, and my bones broken. This moment of agony seems to last an eternity until it gradually dies down, becoming a dull, throbbing annoyance in the background. I can taste blood and bile in the back of my throat, causing me to gag and vomit stinging stomach acid somewhere into the dark. Weak and shivering, I drag my shaking form up from the proverbial floor into a standing position, still wreathed in blackness, only to be blinded by a stunningly bright light. Instinctively, I raise my arms to cover my eyes. After acclimatizing to the sudden influx of light, I see that I'm standing in a whitewashed, square room, with no windows or doors. Panic begins to grab ahold of me once again, forcing me to run frantically about, looking for a way out. After several minutes of fruitless searching, I discover nothing. Suddenly, mist starts forming out of nowhere, and the temperature in the room drops drastically, causing me to start shaking. I hug myself to preserve warmth, frantically rubbing my arms in a vain attempt to heat myself up. As I begin to fall prey to numbness, I feel a cold weight on my shoulder, chilling me to the bone. Turning around, I see a creature with no features on his oval, white face holding onto me. Long forgotten survival instincts start to kick in, and I sweep the appendage grabbing onto me away, scrambling to get as far away from the faceless thing as possible. I end up huddled in a corner of the room with my eyes squeezed shut, hoping, praying that this is all a nightmare. A voice in my head suddenly drowned out everything else.

"**This is not a dream."**

My heart skips a beat. With a cracked, hoarse voice and my eyes still shut, I ask the darkness: "Who said that?"

"**Open your eyes and see."**

Slowly, I do as the voice bade me, and the creature is still in the middle of the room. It is about eight feet tall, with unusually long arms that extended past the human equivalent of knees. Slender and featureless, the being is covered in white and possessed hands and feet with four long "fingers that had three joints instead of two. Opening my mouth once again to speak, I ask one simple question. "What are you?"

"**That is not important." **

The being starts walking towards me, until it's white face was inches away from my own. Heart pounding, I manage to speak with a trembling voice once again. "What do you want from me?"

"**We want you…to survive."**

With those last words, I fade into the darkness once again.

A slight shaking jolts me awake, and I look around with blurry vision in a vain attempt at determining where I am. The pain and the cold is gone, replaced with pleasantly warm air. The ground feels cold beneath my prone form, and I realize that it's made out of metal. Strange. There are no metal floors where I come from. Shaking my head, my vision finally clears, and I see two silhouettes outlined against the bright sky standing above me. Still a little shell shocked, all I can tell about my surroundings is that I'm in an alleyway, the only way out blocked by the two beings.

"He's awake." One of the two figures intones, without a shred of emotion in his voice.

The other figure raised a massive, three-fingered hand to its oddly shaped face, looking thoughtful. It was the bigger silhouette of the two, it's torso seemingly too big for it's limbs to support. Weakly, I struggle to stand, but is forced back down by one of the two shapes.

"Search him, then dump his body."

Those words send a cold shiver down my spine, and my heart rate skyrockets. Finding a sudden burst of strength and clarity, I manage to roll my damaged body backwards, away from the two beings trying to kill me. After doing so, I manage to stand on shaky legs, trembling as I did so. With the sky no longer blinding me, I finally manage to see my assailants. One of them was a Caucasian male, with brown hair and cold, blue eyes which bore into my own. Seeing the other figure almost brought me to my knees once again. It looked like a walking dinosaur, with green scales, a wide, unforgiving maw and blood red eyes. It towered above me, and with a smooth motion, he drew what seemed to be a gun of some kind. It took me a few seconds to make the connection, but I finally identified what it was. A Krogan. It wasn't possible. After all, they were fictional beings. Shock begins to set in, and my mind goes blank. Acting on instinct, I backed away from the hulking figure, only to find that my back was against a wall. A dead end. I had nowhere to go. The Krogan lumbered towards me, and placed that gun of his underneath my chin, the coldness of the metal seeping into my bones.

He smiled, revealing a row of razor sharp teeth and said a few words that I will never forget. "Give me all you have, and I promise that your death will be swift."

My throat was still raw and bleeding, but I manage to cough out a few words in a rasping, hoarse voice. "I have nothing. Even if I did, you wouldn't see a dime of it."

The Krogan narrowed his red eyes, placing his face right up against my own. "Dime? Never heard of it. Although your bravery is commendable, that was a stupid thing to say to me." After saying that, he proceeded to slam the butt of his gun into my stomach, causing me to double over and fight to get oxygen into my lungs. Pain exploded from the back of my head, tearing my skin open and sending rivulets of blood streaming down my face and onto the cold metal floor.

"I won't ask again" the Krogan said in a deep, threatening voice. "Give me all you have, or perish painfully."

"I'd listen to him if I were you. He can cause such agony before you pass." The human said with that cold, calculating voice. "Enjoys doing it quite a bit too."

With that said, the beast lifted me off my feet by my neck until my feet were a couple of inches off the ground. Oxygen deprivation, pain and a possible concussion didn't help me stay awake, forcing me closer and closer towards the metaphorical grim reaper. The Krogran grinned once more and slammed a fist into my ribs. I could swear that I heard them crack. No doubt I've broken some, but only god knows how many at this point. Everything hurts.

With the last bit of defiance left in me, I manage to spit out two words. "Fuck you." I grab the Krogan's arms, trying in vain to push him away from me. He laughs it off, tightening his grip to the point where I could no longer breathe. Slowly, my vision darkens, my eyes start to close, and I begin to drift into the afterlife. Time moves very slowly on the brink of death, and here, in the twilight zone I can see the ghostly outline of the faceless creature that transported me here. It's final words echoed in my mind.

"**Survive."**

Wisps of blue energy cascades around my being, momentarily turning the world a shade of sapphire. The previously vain attempts at pushing the Korgan away were successful somehow, and he is slammed into the right wall of the alleyway. I sink to my knees, exhausted and almost broken, unable to comprehend what just happened. I can see the Krogan in front of me, his brains smeared on the wall, red eyes staring at nothing, face permanently frozen in a look of surprise.

The human was enraged. Drawing a knife from a sheath strapped to his leg, he charged my failing body, shoulder ramming into my broken ribs. I fall to the floor, my world consumed with pain and agony. Placing one of his knees on my chest, he stabs down with his knife at my head, but I somehow manage to throw out two weak limbs out to stop his thrust, the knife inches away from my throat. He continues to press down, the cold, deadly steel of the blade slicing into my jaw, drawing more blood.

I guess this is it. My assailant was at full strength, fury empowering his every move. The knife inches closer and closer to the all-important blood vessels in my neck, cutting deeper as my assailant manically stabs downwards. Unexpectedly, the knife is flung out of his grasp and the painful pressure on my chest fades. The last image that I see before slipping into unconsciousness is that of the murderous blonde bastard opening his mouth in a wordless scream, the flesh flayed from his body.

**That does it for chapter two. As for how the white creature looks like, imagine a whitewashed version of Zero from borderlands, with no identifying creatures. It honestly scares me a little bit. I hope you guys enjoyed this, and once again, special shout out to Tonic! As for who Liri, Alex's rescuer and the person who he stole the "Bloodstone" from is, you'll have to wait a little bit to find out. **

**Until next time =)**

**P.S There are actually several, small grammatical errors in the prologue. Kudos if you can spot them.**

**P.P.S I hate writing dialogue, so I never really got a chance to practice before now. Any tips would be awesome =D**


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